


In Which Everything is Mostly the Same, Except for Team Free Will's Gender

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Deanna Winchester - Freeform, Destiel - Freeform, Fem!Cas, Fem!Sam, Samantha Winchester - Freeform, everyone else is the same though, genderbent!team free will, so fem!dean, there will definitely be destiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-18
Updated: 2015-02-18
Packaged: 2018-03-13 15:48:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3387398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everything from S9 and back are the same.  Slight AU, though, in which I kind of just . write whatever the fuck I want to.  There's no real plot.  There's going to be fights and violence and sex and blood and just a whole slew of my favorite things!</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Which Everything is Mostly the Same, Except for Team Free Will's Gender

**Author's Note:**

> mostly drabbles i guess??? i'm not sure. but here u go anyways. also deanna still has the mark and has already been a demon so yeh
> 
> i edited it so it should flow a lot better now

Demons are your every day threat nowadays, the solution to most cases that don't have an immediate recognizable problem. Unexplainable murder with no motive? Demons. Kidnapping where the body turns up three states over in less than 24 hours? Demons. Black outs in which you murder your entire family in cold blood? Demons. So when there's a bunch of collective murders in the same 20-mile-radius as their last hunt (for the past few hunts), the Winchesters decide it's time to call Crowley and tell him to knock it the fuck off.

But Samantha doesn't want to, and Deanna just glowers at her. 

“Suck it up, Sammy, we gotta talk to your boyfriend to get the demons off our backs,” she says, producing a thing of bright red lipstick from her old, green duffel bag. Samantha's eyes bug at the sight of it.

“Is that my _new_ lipstick? The one I just bought?” Her eyes don't leave the tube in her sister's hands as she waves it around, and her eyes only flicker up to catch her sister's when she responds with a nod. “And what are you gonna do with it, exactly...?”

A smirk graces Deanna's lips as she crouches, but doesn't kneel, and uncaps it. “It makes for a perfect tool for devil trapping, Sammy!” 

Samantha opens her mouth to protest, to yell, but Deanna's already working on making the trap so she groans and throws her head back, stalking to the motel bed where the supplies for summoning sit. It's already prepped, and all that remains is the incantation and the completion of the ritual. She scoops it up begrudgingly and brings it back to her sister, who's standing now, admiring her work, as she applies the lipstick.

“Ew, slut,” Samantha barks, setting her handful in the center of the trap. “That's disgusting.”

“What? It's good lipstick, Sammy.” After capping it with a hitched smirk, Deanna drops it into the duffel bag and, with a few discreetly uttered words of Latin and a drop of a match into the pan, Crowley's standing in the middle of the trap, his face twisted and contorted to reflect bubbling rage and annoyance that percolates from his brain and into his stomach, acidic and demonic and rotten like vomit.

“Hello, girls,” The King sighs. He goes to take a step back, to maybe distance himself from the hunterst, but is stopped by an invisible force that forces an irritated grunt from the back of his throat as he turns to scowl at the sisters. “You two really are a pain in my ass, aren't you?”

“We try,” Deanna chimes, circling the trap, characteristically intimidating and cocky and a bit of some other nastily self-righteous descriptors. “Call off your dogs, Crowley.”

“Excuse me?” He quirks an eyebrow, canting his head forward as if he didn't quite hear the oldest, also shortest, of the two.

“The demons,” Samantha says, her voice low and intrusive, all around bitter. She's been bitter lately, Deanna notes, when it comes to demons, especially Crowley. “They're following us. Or, they're leaving evidence of their presence in our wake.” Her hands on her hips, like she's tough. She is, but demons try to avoid that aspect of her to keep their courageousness high.

Crowley's eyes narrow and dart between either sister as he feels around his lips for an answer with his tongue. After a long moment, and a few curses from Deanna, Crowley finally responds with, “I don't... Know anything about that, actually.” 

If it weren't for the look of utter befuddlement written on his face and how his eyes fluttered down, searching the floor for an explanation, Samantha would have agreed with her sister when he accused the King of lying.

“I, uh... Deanna, I think he's telling the truth...” She chokes a little on the words, bracing herself for the shit storm her sister is about to crap onto her for trusting a demon. Again.

“What? You think Crowley is telling the truth? About this?” She casually gestures at the demon with the demon-killing-knife she had previously produced. “Yeah, no, makes sense, I guess,” she interjects as Samantha's lips part to speak. She leans her weight onto one leg, cocking her hip angrily.

Samantha sputters briefly, but then Crowley chimes in. “I have places to be, things to do. Important things that require finesse, business-related things. I'm the King. Of Hell, remember, girls?” His face is growing red, his voice is raising and Samantha backs up a little as he so she doesn't drown in the spit that's sprinkling along his shouts. “Things that are much more important than fucking with your tail ends! You really think that if I were going to hound you, I would do it from afar and knock at the back door?! Give me some credit!”

“Okay, okay, sheesh,” Deanna grumbles, raising her hands in defeat. “Whatever, dude. Would you quit yelling?”

“You would be yelling too, you dirty skank!”

Samantha leans into Deanna. “He seems pretty irritable today,” she whispers. “Think we should just... Let him go?”

“Probably, but,” Deanna snickers with a shrug. “We're not gonna. Not yet.”

“I can hear you two, you know that, right? I'm a demon, not fucking deaf.” He huffs, adjusting his tie and dusting his suit. The red drains from his face as the silence prolongs, and then he speaks up again. 

“Have you ever thought that there are rogue demons? That do not profess their loyalty unto me?” He narrows his eyes at the girls. “That maybe, just maybe, answer to a calling that isn't my own?”

“What are you trying to say?” Samantha frowns. “Is there another demon as shitty as you that's after us?”

“No,” he grunts, his tongue to the roof of his mouth as he glares disappointedly at the two women.

“If you did,” Deanna says loudly, eliciting a soft jump from both her sister and the cross-roads demon, “You would be sure to tell us, right, Crowley?”

The King sighs, rolling his eyes. “I solemnly swear, I would be sure to tell you lot. Happy? Let me go. I was in a meeting.”

Samantha glances to her sister, who's eyes are narrowed and pointed sharply at Crowley. She hums until her sister's eyes meet hers, and she raises her eyebrows at him. Deanna shrugs and her shoulders drop from their tension, she steps back and Samantha scuffs at the painted trap with her heel. Crowley smiles, steps back, and takes a short bow. And then he's gone, and Deanna sighs.

“So, then what?” She groans, running a hand through her short dirty-blond hair. “Should we call Cassie?”

“Yeah,” Samantha snorts, folding her arms over her chest as she leans her hip into the counter. “I guess so.”


End file.
